Difference between revisions of "Logs:Oily Baby Dragons"

Weyrling Training Cavern, High Reaches Weyr
All the furniture here has been pushed to one side of the room to allow a large pathway opposite: room enough to let weyrling dragons pass from the bowl's archway to the cavernous barracks at the back. None of the furniture matches, either: it varies from big cushioned, claw-footed chairs to those of plain wood, while the most seating is at the two stone tables ringed by low and equally hard stone benches. Without the tapestries that decorate many of the Weyr's other interior spaces, the room always echoes with noise, no matter how few are there.
What it does have, however, are several colorful murals: on one wall, a detailed diagram of a dragon's anatomy; opposite, next to a creaky wooden door, a number of painted and labeled wing formations. Near the entrance is a large-scale version of the Weyr's badge, while the back wall, by the barracks, features a detailed map of the continent. The latter area's also home to one big, beat-up couch, black or maybe blue -- the thing's so old and filthy it's hard to tell, though it's certainly comfortable.

The day waits for no one, at least that seems to be the opinion of one flame-licked brown as his lifemate zombie shuffles after him. "Slow down seaweed brain." It's almost affectionate, almost. The pair bleary eyed make there way to the oiling area, away enough from the cot that the inevitable spills and accidents that follow Akluseth aren't going to be as much of an issue.

Jorrth is there already, all glistening about the shoulders as he circles around T'mic, leaving oil-splotches on the backs of the tall man's knees when he rubs his head and shoulders against T'mic's legs, or curling that little tail of his about the same height on his rider's legs. T'mic is sort of turning as if to try and get more oil on Jorrth, though it's clear at this point that it's become a game for both of them, with the feints and dodges and headbutts going around. The itchiness must've been dealt with, then.

"You think... If I just dump the bottle over him, it will work?" Edyis murmurs eyeing the blue pair with a smile as her own lifemate does laps around the room waiting for her to get the job done so they can go do important things. She chuckles a little at the blue. "He's kind of adorable." She says of Jorrth.

Voices. That means someone is there. T'mic manages to catch Jorrth with one big hand against the little blue's forehead. Jorrth presses his head into it quite happily, nuzzling a little, scratching a little, snuffling a little too. Edyis gets one of those slow smiles the nanny was so good at, and the new bluerider still manages to maintain as a skill. "Totally adorable," he answers back. "Is how my sister wrote about him."

Edyis laughs as she snags a rag and an oil bucket, a sharp whistle piercing the air for an instant and the brown gallops over nearly knocking Edyis on her butt with his shoulder block of affection. "Your family is proud then. I take it?"

T'mic recoils a little at that whistle, while Jorrth gives his shaggy wings a shake, and rubs and moves his head until he can keep out from between his rider's fingers. "I, uh. I think so," nods that big man. "They were at the hatching I guess - well, most of them. Didn't seem them though." Jorrth's attention has turned from Edyis to Akluseth. « Are you itchy? » he wants to know.

Edyis gets her lifemate settled, kneeling down to begin the task of oiling the brown. Akluseth croons at his little brother's question. "You are lucky then. My sisters are both at weaverhall, and my brother's in Tillek so they couldn't make the hatching."

They came from the sea, thousands of tiny blue crabs scuttling underwater, their poking tiny claws making itching sounds. (To Jorrth from Akluseth)

"They arranged a ride at Benden," T'mic nods. "Is what Mirna said. My dad did. Way before the hatching. I don't know what he had to do, to do that... we don't have rider family..." Jorrth snorts back at Akluseth, but is soon distracted, nudging his nose back up at T'mic, and then promptly flipping over. He can wallow in the cavern just as well as in a dirt hole. Who says he can't. It makes T'mic grin. And seemingly lose track of the other weyrling for a bit.

"You are from the Benden area?" surprised, even as she is pouring oil over the dragon's rump. Akluseth croons in delight as cool oil drifts over the itchy, itchy hide. "I don't either. Have any rider family. Well, not blood relations." There's a smile in that.

T'mic probably has missed about half of what Edyis has said, by the time he looks back to her. "Oh. Right." It brings a nod that tries to be earnest, though there's confusion written on his face as well. Jorrth keeps rolling about for a while, but T'mic has rediscovered the actual purpose of this morning, and is going for more oil, preparing for when that little blue is done what it is he's doing.

Edyis begins to work the oil into Akluseth's hide with the rag, smirking. "You have much trouble? Keeping separate?" She enquires then, working in slow circles. Akluseth warbles at the blue.

"Umm," says T'mic, frowning a little with concentration as he squats down. Soon enough, Jorrth pops back up, giving his shaggy little wings a shake, and swinging his tail a couple times. That felt great, you guys. "I don't know, I guess. It's not like we're ever going to be separate." There's a snorty little croon from Jorrth with these words, as T'mic sets to rubbing oil in along his wingjoints. "Mostly know who's hungry now. I think."

Edyis chuckles, Akluseth spreading a wing awkwardly. "Not quite so good on that part. Are you worried about the Harper evaluations?" She peers over then at the blue and his rider. "Not that anything bad happens other than catch-up courses if you fail them.

"I, umm," and T'mic is blinking hard, and giving his head a little shake, "I haven't thought about it much." He licks at his lips, and brings his head in a bit closer to peer at Jorrth's hide while he rubs in the oil. There's a deep breath taken in through his nose right around that point. "I don't kow."

Edyis clicks her tongue, working the oil over the brown. "Don't worry too much, Most of it isn't too difficult." More oil gets poured over the brown, who shivers in pleasure at having the itch in his hide relieved. His tail twitch, twitch, twitches, a warning that he's getting restless again, and without warning he's off again, leaving a trail of oil behind him, as he goes to inspect his blue brother.

Jorrth has staretd making little happy grunting sounds as his weyrling's oil application turns more into a massage. Oh yeah. Right there. "But I... I wasn't worrying," T'mic answers Edyis, his mouth pursing a little. "I just hadn't thought about it." He falls quiet, big brow taking on a crease of trouble. Jorrth makes his eyes open up (they'd closed) to watch Akluseth as he draws closer. At least he's not drooling.

"I see." She answers before she's whistling again, causing Akluseth's head to turn and emit chirps and warbles of protest. Instead he bolts, as though he fully expects Jorrth to join in the fun. Still trailing oil and careening into a table, knocking over several bottles to spill all over himself. "Ak." Edyis hisses, going after him.

Aeaeth is still dripping when she enters from the bowl on Yesia's heels, apparently freshly cleaned - or at the very least freshly swimmed. Yesia herself is surprisingly not wet, and she's already casting for oil when she enters, much to her lifemate's crooning delight. « Jorrth, » comes Aeaeth's melodic greeting, « Akluseth. » Less melodic, for the latter, which probably has something to do with Yesia's glare at the brown when he knocks over the bottles. "Wait here," she says, and Aeaeth settles obediently, watching Yesia mince to the table through the pooling oil, where she eventually starts picking through the bottles still upright. "You shouldn't waste this," she says tartly, with a look down her nose at Edyis. "Other people have to use it, too."

Jorrth certainly watches Akluseth's run. But... those big fingers, they feel so good... Big round baby dragon eyes blink, and his tail swishes. « Sister Aeaeth, » greets the little green back, while T'mic seems happy to have someone new to turn to with one of those easy, lazy smiles. "They're still pretty clumsy," he offers up as peacefully as he can. This is easier to talk about than harper evaluations, by far.

Akluseth? He only offers a soft croon of greeting, same as he would any of his siblings, dashing in the direction of the cots. Still dripping with oil. Dark brown eyes narrow on Yesia, but she doesn't dignify the snark with a response, already working to straighten the bottles. There is something grateful in the look given to T'mic for his peaceful offering.

"Not all of them," is Yesia's answer, the implication clear. The smile she gives T'mic much kinder than the ones she reserves for most people. She seems to find him curious, and Jorrth too, in an odd, secret way. Her nimble fingers pluck up two of the bottles that remain and she minces back through with a disgusted scoffing sound. "I've seen Jorrth. He's got jumping down, and Akluseth can barely walk." Unkind, even while Aeaeth says, secretly, « I slipped today. Right into the water. But I love the water. » A little tremble of pleasure. Yesia tucks her skirts close and settles beside Aeaeth, pouring some of the oil into her hand and beginning methodically with the green's nose.

T'mic has to chuckle at that, nodding and bringing one hand to give Jorrth's hindquarters a little, proud pat. "Would you believe jumping's actually easier for him than just walking?" he offers to that greenrider. « Water is wonderful, » Jorrth enthuses to Aeaeth. « I like the waves. Have you seen them? » T'mic has started to move down Jorrth's spine, though he spares a glance after Akluseth.

Does Yesia even exist? Not from the way the young brownrider is focused on cleaning. She's really focusing on cleaning. Water draws Akluseth's attention, as he darts back from oiling someone's cot. (Probably Yesia's)

Ocean waves, blue and rolling are gently sent in the direction of his clutchmates, lapping gently, but not invasively. Fish of brilliant colors dance on the currents. « Water is good. » (To Jorrth and Aeaeth from Akluseth)

To nearby dragons, Aeaeth's colors refract into that: they're not blue but radiant, fantastic spectrum. Her colors hide nothing, not now; she just thinks they're pretty, and they caress into his mind, making the fish fantastic, following their paths in ribbons. She decidedly wallows in the cool surf. « Water is great, » is her coy agreement.

Aeaeth's wings flutter softly with pleasure. « The bigger dragons made waves for me, » she says, pleased with herself for some reason, as Yesia moves up her face and begins oiling her short headknobs. « Have you seen them from underneath? » is her returned challenge. « I can hold my breath. » As for Yesia? Focused on her task, she ignores the brownrider just as well. That means all her shining attention is on T'mic. "He is very small. He would always have to run, everywhere."

That is an idea that is pure genius, and Jorrth's delight comes in a wave of fur-plains smell. « I could hold my breath! » His certainty in this statement is unwavering. « Do they look different? Do they look upside-down? » The questions are for any of his clutchmates, Aeaeth, Akluseth, anyone else nearby. Excitement has set his eyes to whirling a faster blue, and he's started to hop-bounce in place. Again, T'mic is laughing, halfway trying to steady that little blue, halfway not. "He's the smallest blue I'm pretty sure," he agrees to Yesia, unawares of all the cold shoulders in the room by all accounts. "But he doesn't seem to mind."

Edyis dark eyes shift then focusing on Yesia's observation of Jorrth. The change must be noticed by Akluseth too because his eyes show the faintest tinge of orange for an instant head turned in the greenrider's direction. Mess cleaned she reclaims her rag and moves closer to the other two though perhaps notably sitting closer to Tomic than Yesia. Akluseth shoulder blocks his rider as she sets back to the work of oiling him.

To Aeaeth and Jorrth, Akluseth projects « Fish dart beneath the belly of a mountainous blue, and the sensation of climbing such a mountain shared with the others. The ribbons are met with delighted silvery bubbles that flutter and dance about them. »

Coy, always coy, Aeaeth says, « Maybe, » to Jorrth. She seems torn between them, still easily confused with multiple conversations, and she is keen on looking at them. This results in a lot of movement, her head turning this way and that between her clutchsiblings, enough so that Yesia eventually snaps, "Sit still." And at once Aeaeth does, with a little apologetic croon, nudging towards Yesia with a freshly oiled head to butt her apologetically. "No, no. You'll get it on my dress," she defers, and Aeaeth stops. Yesia does at least mollify her by rubbing her eyeridges affectionately, while saying, "He's definitely the smallest. At least in ours. Paz's is much bigger." Always comparisons.

"O'nahi's, too," T'mic agrees. "I kind of like it that way, though. How little he is. It suits him." And his little squeaky voice and his big soulful eyes. There's nothing but love in the look T'mic turns to his dragon. His dragon, who is still bouncing a little bit, but now looking back at his rider. This conversation, at the very least, is one Jorrth keeps quiet. T'mic's answer of, "But you just ate," is not so private. But whatever it is sorted out does have him looking to start putting away their bottle of oil and rags.

Is that envy in her expression upon noting the obvious love between blue and rider. Mostly Edyis has resigned herself to working the excess oil into Akluseth's hide, the little brown's tail twitching impatiently even as he rumbles softly at the treatment in pleasure.

Restless waves waver, bending sunbeams into glowing lines of light reflected wherever they touch. Good morning. (To local dragons from Akluseth)

A drop in the far reaches of a blackened freshwater pool causes increasingly noticably aggitation, as if ever so far away becoming more and more noticable especially once within and appropriately reflecting the bending sunlight from the familiar oceanic mind. Greetings. (To local dragons from Neianth)

"What about your dragon, Edyis?" Yesia says, too casually. She looks at his little body, blocking Edyis in, and says, "Is he at least less clumsy and wasteful in water?" T'mic's private conversation turns briefly public, and the girl remarks, "I saw them bringing more meat, earlier." See? She's nice and helpful and thoughtful.

Still hushed silence, from Aeaeth's quarters...and the impression of people whispering in the wings, trying desperately hard not to be heard. (To local dragons from Aeaeth)

T'mic's lips press together, almost disappearing, and he gives his head a little shake. "They're all still growing," comes as a gentle reminder, eyes roving from Yesia to Edyis as he speaks. "Imagine if we grew as fast as they did." He tries to push those lips out into a smile as he stands, and for a moment, Yesia's comment about meat just gets a blank stare. For a long moment. Then, "Oh! No, no, he wants to swim." « Yes! » Jorrth's bounce finally becomes properly mobile. "I think we're going to walk that way. Slowly. So he has time to digest." Never even mind the oil. "You guys can come along whenever you're ready, if you want." And then the little blue is gone, disappeared out into the bowl, and T'mic has forgotten all about the other weyrlings, because he has to keep up.